


Ginger Up

by codswallop



Series: Triptych [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Discipline, Figging, M/M, Masturbation, Sensation Play, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codswallop/pseuds/codswallop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hathaway fantasizes about Lewis. Creatively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger Up

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is Hathaway/Lewis in Hathaway's fantasy only; I'm tagging it as m/m, but their actual relationship is ambiguous here.

The sting of it startled and alarmed Hathaway at first. He was in the middle of his typical lazy late-night wank, lights out, unpremeditated, one hand dipping back inside his loose pyjama trousers to give himself a finger or two, and suddenly-- _ouch_.

Ginger, he remembered after a moment. He’d been handling ginger root. He gave a relieved laugh, alone in the dark. He didn't cook for himself often, but when he did, he liked something he could really taste. Cold noodle salad: peanut sauce, red pepper flakes, fresh grated ginger.

People used it recreationally, in fact, didn't they? He'd read something once. Hathaway rubbed his fingers against his arsehole again, deliberately, experimentally. A bit of a burn. Not bad. Interesting. He got up to wash his hands, then fell asleep unwanked, still tingling slightly.

He thought about it again the next evening when he opened the fridge for leftovers. The remaining gnarl of ginger lay neatly wrapped on a shelf, and he smiled faintly at the idea of using it for...untoward purposes. He picked it up, sniffed it, turned it meditatively in his hand, and put it back again.

There were no new cases just then, and Lewis was off on holiday, visiting his daughter. Hathaway ate his cold, spicy dinner, drank a beer, thought it over a bit more, then went online and carried out a brief but highly educational web search.

*

He only teased himself with it to begin with. He wasn't sure how much it would hurt, how long the sensation would linger, and he was slightly nervous in case he hadn't carved a wide enough base. He pressed it against himself--cool, damp, a pungent sting--and felt ridiculous and excited in equal measure. His erection bobbed stiffly up against his stomach. After a minute or two, when the warming sensation proved bearable, he pressed a little harder, letting the tapered tip of the plug enter him.

The heat against his inner membranes was more difficult to take. His body wanted to writhe away from it. _Hold it there, lad,_ he imagined Lewis saying. _I don't like doing this, but it's for your own good._ Hathaway's breathing began to speed up. He'd been holding himself open with one hand, inserting the ginger carefully with the other, but he released his cheeks now and began to touch his cock, working it loose-fisted and slow.

Lewis would be admonishing. Angry but contrite. His hands would be firm and warm. _You'll keep it in for ten strokes. Then we'll see. Count them out for me. Try not to clench; you'll only hurt yourself more._

Hathaway clenched, and moaned. "Please," he said, but the Lewis of his imaginings was determined to administer punishment. The ginger slid in deeper, and the burn grew more intense with each imagined smack against his arse--definitely a bit too uncomfortable for liking now, but surely he deserved it. "Please, sir," he begged aloud to the empty room, when he'd counted ten. 

Lewis's hand would rest gently against his throbbing arse while he mulled it over. He wouldn't do anything quickly. _All right. Keep it there for one more minute, and we'll have it out. You're an excellent sergeant, Detective Hathaway, but you get ahead of yourself too often--you need to remember who's in charge._

"Sir!" Hathaway gasped, as the ginger burned in deep. _There. Easy now, lad, out we come._

Terrible but merciful, Hathaway thought, his hand frenzied on his cock as he pulled the plug free, and came gasping and shaking into his fist.

*

Later, when he'd calmed, he got up to wash and dispose of the evidence. He didn't let himself shower the residual sting away, though. He made himself look in the mirror instead: naked, quaking, flame-faced. Burning inside and out. 

"Forgive me," he murmured--to Lewis, not to God, who surely had better things to do than concern Himself over what a man might choose to put into his own arse. The real Lewis would be appalled, no doubt. But Hathaway wouldn’t have to face him for another three days, and in the meantime there was another nub of ginger left in the fridge, awaiting his next fall. The Lewis in his mind smiled, patient and fond.


End file.
